How about a message: part 3 - never underestimate a Winchester
by Anna Nomis
Summary: The last an final chapter of "how about a massage." Dean gets his final revenge on the angel with help of Sam and some tricks up their sleeves.


How about a massage: part 3 - never underestimate a Winchester

By the next day, Dean's threat of revenge was still present at the back of Castiel's mind, but had dulled in the midst of Deans seemingly innocent mood.

The angel had already lived through one traumatic tickling experience with the boys when they decided they wanted to teach the him what tickling was. And one was far more than sufficient in his opinion. 'Why in Father's name would such a torturous weakness be created. In angels as well no less?' He thinks to himself.

But was was an angel, 'I can handle two humans' he thinks to himself, trying to ignore the fact that the "two humans" were the Winchesters: the most feared two humans in the universe, in heaven, hell, and earth.

Cas's false security was short lived as he walks into a bedroom ( for the purpose of retrieving his angel blade ) to be grabbed from behind and shoved onto the closest bed.

Before he could even think to teleport himself far away from their devious plan as possible, Dean shows up and wins the struggle to cuff his arms to the bedposts.

Even before they told him, Cas knew the chains were doused in holy oil. He would feel his energy dampen to a dull throb inside his chest. The feeling amplifies his growing hopelessness as the situation sinks in.

"Dean, I apologize for partaking in something that gives you the apparent need for revenge, but I was just an accomplice. If my social skills are truly getting better, then my assumption that you would want to get back at Sam more than me would be correct?" Cas states, but his usual raspy voice was squeaking slightly.

"Already got me." Sam says, winking. "Yeah I got him real good, I thought he was going to pee." Dean laughs, earning an annoyed, flushes look from Sam. "It's your turn now feather face." Dean continues, his eyes trailing down the angels body.

If Cas didn't know better -or DID know better- he would have thought Dean was checking him out. But the thought is banished from his mind before he could fully assess it as Dean's hands dig into his ribs.

He was able to control himself at first, with thrashing and grunting and squinting eyes. But then Sam joined in on his knees and feet and Cas broke.

"No-hohoho. Sahahaham Dehehehehean thihihs i-is unnecessahahahary!" Castiel mumbles, trying to burry his face in his shoulder. However, Dean just tickles his neck and forcefully coaxes his head back out to serenade the group with his ironically angelic laughter.

"Of course it's necessary!" Dean says, as if it's astonishing for Cas not to know. "I have to get back at you for helping Sammy attack me."

"IM SOHOHORYYY DEAHAHAHAN! I HAHATE BEING TICKELEHEHED! PLEASEEEE!" Cas keeps tugging and flailing and cursing his father for the existence of this weakness.

Sam, as if one the same thought process, "I still can't wrap my head around the fact that angles are ticklish." He laughs "ONLY SOHOHOME OF THEHEHEM!" Cas says, feeling the need to correct Sam even as he is having the feathers tickled off him.

"Well you're definitely one of them."

"For the last time dean we did it to HELP you." Sam groans, shooting his brother an exasperated glance. "Hell, you THANKED us!" He continues.

"Unless you want me to get you again Sammy, I suggest you keep your energy on tickling." Dean warns. Sam obliges instantly.

"NOOOOO, OH FAHAHATHER PLEAHAHAHASE!" Cas pleads, shaking his head back and forth, tears streaming down his face.

"Look at that, an angel begging for mercy from two humans." Sam laughs, his momentary frustration forgotten. "He's literally crying for his daddy." Dean agrees giggling as well.

"PLEASEEEEEE I SHOULDN'T BE LAUGHING LIKE THIHIHIHIHIS! ITS UNDIGNIFIED!" Cas pleads, still trying to grasp the full concept of the situation.

Then, without a word, the two brothers both amp up their assaults. Sam starts scribbling under the angles pale toes while pulling them back to vulneralize them. And Dean pulls out the dress shirt and starts easing his fingers up and down his sensitive torso, only to shove them into his armpits and scribble all around them.

Cas could only scream, shattering the glass vase next to the bed. He was frantic, screaming in Echonian, pulling on his restraints, thrashing his legs to try to do something, anything to get away.

His usual calm and collected self was in chaos, due to nothing more than some holy oil and two humans.

Meanwhile, Dean was having the time of his life, not only was he getting his revenge, and regaining his wounded pride, he had a non awkward excuse to touch the angel. Under his shirt. All over his chest. 'Jesus why couldn't I just be a chick guy' he thinks to himself.

Sam was just enjoying the fact his brother was happy, the angel was actually laughing, and he wasn't the one having the living hell tickled out of him. Again.

Castiel, a warrior of the lord, has now been refused to a laughing pile of pudding. Squirming and giggling and squeaking, it almost wanted to make you look away at how human and giggly he was. However, no one could because this was a once in a lifetime (or two or three lifetimes) experience. And hell, the angel needs to laugh every so often!

Deciding twenty minutes was enough, crashed their tickling. "Thank you." Cas pants "thank you."

Laughing, the two brothers undid the cuffs and released the breathless angel.

Then, without so much as a sarcastic comment, Cas immediately zaps himself away to keep from the embarrassment and to recollect himself to his usual standard.

"Never underestimate a Winchester. To think I haven't learned that by now." He mumbles, flying through the clouds with a genuine smile on his lips.


End file.
